Tiny Warrior
by AngelMoon Girl
Summary: Emma Swan is keeping watch over her baby brother, and it warms every cockle of David Nolan's heart. Tags to 3x20.


Disclaimer: Nah. Not mine. I just have more Charming Family feels than I know what to do with, so I figured before the big huzzah of the finale hits and I shift gears completely, I'd type out this adorable one shot that's been plaguing me for days. Hope you enjoy ;)

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**_Tiny Warrior_**

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The nursery is shrouded in darkness, save for one small, silently breathing human in the crib and another - significantly bigger - human pulled up in a chair.

Emma Swan is keeping watch over her baby brother, and it warms every cockle of David Nolan's heart.

He takes a very slow, very quiet step into the room. He doesn't want to disturb this spell that has descended over the two of them; this unearthly form of magic more beautiful than anything he has ever seen cast by witch or wizard alike.

It's futile, of course.

Emma is her mother's daughter; no one sneaks up on Snow and lives to tell the tale, and Emma is no different. She starts, perhaps from the dregs of a half-sunken doze, and her blonde head so shiny with moonlight whips to greet David.

She's a pulchritudinous young spitfire and she's all his. It's overwhelming to realize that, again and again and again. He hopes the awe never fades.

David raises a placating hand. "It's okay. It's just me."

Emma nods, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't wake you. I was just watching him for a bit and I guess I forgot the time."

"No need to apologize. I was just up for a drink and I saw the door open." He moves forward, feeling like a ghost among the living palette of color to be found here; the vibrant blue of the walls a willing playmate to the yellow of the crib and the deep crimson of Emma's nightshirt. David kneels next to the chair, trying to memorize this moment. The heady flavors of the cool night air amalgamating with the fresh sweetness of Emma's shampoo; the unique scent of his newborn son snoring away in oblivious slumber. It's intoxicating.

He reaches out and strokes the baby's downy soft head.

Emma exhales beside him. "He's so small."

"He's a baby," David cracks, and if he wasn't touching the aforementioned child, he's pretty sure he would've gotten a hard knock to the shoulder.

Until he actually looks at Emma, and she's not smirking, nor is she preparing to do him bodily harm. She's staring at his hand on her brother, his hand that is weaving a gentle caress across the baby's forehead, and she seems... deflated. Or maybe more aptly... sad. There's a shadow in her green eyes, and it wasn't there before.

"Daddy," she whispers, and it's such a shock that David's appendage freezes where it is. He wants to voice concern, or affection, or even just Emma's name, but none are possible. He can hardly make to move his mouth over the pounding din of his heartbeat, a swelling and suffocating cacophony against the confines of his chest. It's all the prince can do to remind himself, _breathe_.

It's hard when the last time he heard that moniker roll off her lips, she was being torn from his arms in a nightmare no father would ever wish to relive.

_Goodbye, Daddy..._

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined he might actually hear it in real life.

"It's a good look on you," Emma says simply, and David swallows thickly. Ah. Maybe he wouldn't be so lucky, but it was still progress... and still the most wondrous music in his ears.

He watches as Emma nibbles on her lower lip and what is clearly a question aching to burst free. He sees a myriad of emotions dance across her features, and grows more curious by the moment.

"He's really very small," Emma murmurs a second time. David eyes her closely.

"He is," he concurs, with a cock of the head.

"Was... I that small?" his daughter asks, again in the barest of whispers. And suddenly, it's all making sense. David smiles.

"Oh no, you were smaller. Much smaller. In fact, I've never seen a child that adorably small before in my entire life. You were just a tiny slip of a thing in mine and your mother's arms. I was almost afraid I would break you. But I needn't have worried. You were as strong as you were little."

"Must run in the family," Emma chuckles, glancing at her brother and no doubt remembering what a trooper he was during the whole Zelena ordeal. David is delighted to see the sparkle returning to his daughter's eyes, and he continues to supply her the puzzle pieces of her past she so craves.

"It must. You were just as brave as he was, that day. We... we left your mother, and when she was saying goodbye, you couldn't stop crying. But when we got out into the hallway, and faced down the guards - it was like you knew. You went quiet in my arms. You never even made another sound, not when swords were raining down around you and not when I placed you in the wardrobe. You were my tiny warrior, Emma. My brave, brave girl."

Emma sucks in and David finds that he himself is having trouble breathing, due to the sizable lump currently taking up residence in his throat.

"It sucks the way things work out, doesn't it?" she chokes, and David grabs at Emma's hand, squeezing it. Steadying her. She uses her other hand to reach out and touch the baby's cheek. Her voice becomes a tenuous battle for composure. "I love him, I truly do. But it's... hard. Because when I look at him, I see me. I see a little girl who never had her parents the way he will. But I don't _just_ see me... I see Henry, too. I see the family resemblance and it makes me wonder, did Henry have hair that sticks up like his uncle's? Did he crinkle his nose the same way? And I don't know, I don't know because I was too scared to even look at him and then he was gone and it just _sucks_."

David winces at the way Emma's voice cracks. It is agony for him to hear her reveal these broken memories and not be able to repair the damage, but he wants his daughter to know-

Even if he never succeeds, he'll never stop trying, either.

"It does suck. More than anything." David pushes himself up onto his haunches, so that he is crouching in front of an Emma teetering on the brink of breakdown. She gazes beseechingly at him and he cradles her chin; wipes an errant tear. "But you know what, sweetheart? It's amazing how things come together, too. You brought our beautiful grandson into the world, and in the end, Henry brought you back into ours."

Emma emits a shuddery breath, and David leans in to brush his lips against her forehead, hand moving up to tangle itself in her hair. He touches her as gently as he does the baby, because she _is_ his baby, just thirty years big. And every time he protectively holds the back of her head like this, it brings him back, it reminds him -

Underneath all the bravado and years of experience, Emma Swan is still the tiny warrior with wide eyes, looking to her larger than life daddy for guidance; strength - ready to follow in his lead like a soldier awaiting orders.

_She always was more knight than princess, wasn't she._

And so, David takes the reigns, gives the signal - he gathers up the silently crying woman in his arms and offers her a gentle fatherly embrace. He feels like his heart will surely melt when Emma accepts, crumpling willingly into his arms with only one more question before she welcomes the darkness of his chest.

"And was I enough?"

He knows what lurks beneath her query. He knows the demons that circle the hallows of her mind. He knows there is perhaps some guilt prompting her desire to hold vigil over her brother.

She worries she is not what her parents wanted. She worries they would rather have had their daughter return an infant than the flawed young adult she is. She worries her father loves his tiny son more than his big daughter.

She could not be more wrong. Her age is nothing more than a hurdle to parents who simply crave her continued presence in their lives.

Emma does not truly understand yet, how treasured she is.

It is her individualism that brings he and Snow such pride.

It is her kind spirit that brings them hope.

It is her fierce determination to do what is right that brings them redemption.

It is her child that brings them family.

And the fact that she sits up at night protecting her little brother while he sleeps? Why, it brings David so much joy, he hardly knows what to do with it all. These are his kids, his babies, and there is nothing - not even a time freezing curse - that will change the meaning of their relationship to him.

And she thinks she is not enough?

David tightens his grip, his laughter mingling with a sob as he declares with every fiber of his being,

"Emma Swan, you will always be enough."


End file.
